


With Anyone Who Will Lie Down

by trashcangimmick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blowjobs, First Time, Fluff, Human Castiel, I Am Emotions, M/M, Matchmaker Dean, Underage Drinking, Weechesters, Young Castiel, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 19:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: "I'm sitting out dances on the wall, trying to forget everything that isn't you. I'm not going home alone, cause I don't do too well on my own."Teenaged Sam and Cas get locked in a closet. It lasts longer than seven minutes, but neither of them are gonna complain.





	With Anyone Who Will Lie Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hordeofangrybees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hordeofangrybees/gifts).



> These nerdy babies are everything. [Got me listening to under the cork tree and crying.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRq-rbMxekc) Help me.

Sam is probably going to murder his brother.

Granted, it's not the first time he's had that particular thought. But Christ. Pushing Sam into a closet with Cas fucking Novak and locking the door is a new sort of torture tactic. Especially when half Sam’s school seems to be at this stupid party. 

In fact, Sam’s pretty sure that Dean somehow made sure that Cas got an invitation here for this specific purpose. Because it's not enough that Cas is Sam’s lab partner until they move on to whatever podunk town has the next ghost problem. It's not enough that Cas has come over on several occasions to work on projects and Dean won't shut up about how they are such cute little boyfriends. No, Dean’s gotta convince everyone they know that Sam and Cas are having nerdy gay sex. Because older brothers are terrible monsters with no sense of mercy or compassion. 

Sam lets out a long sigh. Now that his eyes have adjusted to the darkness, he can make out a vague outline of Cas sitting next to him. Hunched over on himself. Even though he's already short. Skinny. Wearing a black vest over one of his usual button-down shirts, with those clunky square-rimmed glasses.

“I’m sorry,” Cas offers quietly. It's the first thing he's said in the ten or so minutes they've been trapped here. “I know this must be uncomfortable for you.”

“And it's not for you?” Sam can't help but snort. 

“Being locked in a closet is a step up from getting stuffed in a locker. And I don't find your company so distasteful as you seem to find mine.”

Ugh. Well now Sam feels like a piece of shit on top of everything else. Cas isn't a bad guy or anything. Just awkward and weird. 

“I don't have a problem with you,” Sam says. A little too quickly. “Just—Dean's been going pretty hard on the whole gay thing. I doubt it's gonna help when word gets around that we spent the entire party in here together.”

“I see.” Cas nods. “Though, it isn't as if we had a choice in the matter.”

“Somehow, I suspect that's gonna get left out in the re-telling.”

Sam digs down into his jacket pocket. Things could be worse. He could have left his flask back at the shitty motel they're calling home for now. He no longer feels any remorse about stealing Dean’s whiskey. 

He takes a long swig, trying not to grimace at the burn, before offering it out to Cas. 

“What is that?” Cas sounds more than a little apprehensive. 

“Evan Williams. Fuel of champions.”

Cas takes a ginger hold on the silver flask, emblazoned with a gold cross. He sniffs it and makes a small noise of disgust. 

“You don't have to drink it, dude,” Sam laughs. “Just, yknow. It's a party. Figured we might as well.”

“I’ve actually never been to a party before.”

“Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“I’ve also never tried hard alcohol.”

“Again… not the most shocking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah. I’m not very cool.” 

“Being cool is overrated. I mean, look at my brother. He’s really cool by most accounts, and he's a complete ass.”

Surprisingly, Cas takes a sip from the flask. He even swallows it, though it makes him cough. Sam claps him on the shoulder. Feeling a little proud?

“Welcome to the neighborhood, I guess?” 

“The neighborhood tastes like gasoline.” Cas sounds a little gruffer than he did before. That's… kinda interesting. 

They pass the whiskey back and forth. Sam gets a pleasant buzz going. And it's not like they're hanging out in complete silence or anything. There's Led Zeppelin blasting over the speakers somewhere in the house, which means Dean probably declared himself DJ. Sam can hear the muffled chatter of intoxicated voices. 

Overall, this isn't actually that different from normal. Just instead of sitting on a couch and being anti-social, he's out of sight. 

“I think I’m drunk.” Cas hiccups. 

“I’d believe it. You've been hitting that pretty hard for a beginner.” 

“My arms feel funny.”

“That’ll happen.”

“I’m gay.”

“Pardon?” Sam’s heart might skip a beat. He’d thought everyone called Cas a fag just because he was socially inept. He didn't think there was an actual basis to it. 

In fact, he hadn't even considered Cas as a sexual being. Because Cas wears ties to school, and talks in a dry voice about science or math, or sometimes the weather, and had never given any sort of indication that carnal pleasures were on his radar. 

“I am attracted to men. You were saying—how your brother wants everyone to think we’re gay. It seemed that perhaps I should clarify I am, in fact, a homosexual.”

“Oh.” Sam tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I mean, that's cool. Gay people are cool. I didn't wanna imply it's bad or anything. Just… we aren't together. Like Dean wants everyone to think.”

“We aren't.”

“Right.”

“Did I make you even more uncomfortable?”

“No! No, it's fine.”

“I wasn't trying to flirt with you. I think you’re very handsome, much like anyone else with eyes would. But I know you’re straight.”

Sam has to process that for a few seconds. He might be a little more tipsy than he thought. 

“You have a really weird way of  _ not  _ flirting.” He says after a minute. Takes another swig of whiskey, because what else is he supposed to do?

He's a sixteen year old boy. He’d get off with anything that has a pulse, given the opportunity. It might be the booze talking, but all things considered, Cas isn't bad looking. Big blue eyes. Messy brown hair. Angular face, that somehow just makes him look helpless and confused most of the time. 

So what if he has the mannerisms of an alien trying to mimic human behavior? He's still not terrible to look at. 

“It's funny. Usually when I try to flirt it doesn't work, and when I try not to, it comes off with the opposite intention.” Cas must be smiling. Sam can hear it in his voice. 

“By that logic you should try not to flirt on purpose.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m too drunk for double negatives right now,” Sam laughs.  _ “Are _ you hitting on me?”

“Are you straight?”

“I dunno. Not entirely?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah… OK.”

The words have barely left Sam’s mouth before Cas crawls over into his lap. Straddling his thighs. Pressed close against him. He cups Sam’s jaw with both hands as their lips brush together. 

There's a swooping sensation in Sam’s stomach. He feels too hot under the skin as Cas licks into his mouth. He’s not used to someone else making the first move, or being so… brazen, about it. Most of the girls he’s kissed before were so shy. 

It kinda seems like Cas wants to eat him alive. 

He fists a hand in Sam’s hair. Nips at his lower lip. Rocks his hips so they’re grinding together, and Sam is definitely getting hard. 

“I’ve been thinking about sucking you off,” Cas whispers. Like a dirty little promise. “I’ve come imagining you fucking my throat.”

“Shit.” Sam’s breath hitches. He didn't think people talked like that outside of porn. What the hell happened to the weird nerd that was in here with him a minute ago?

For half a second, Sam wonders if Cas is possessed and the demon is just toying with him. But they've been drinking out of a solid silver, consecrated flask. So, no. This is real. Wild. But real. 

“You ever fucked anyone before?” Cas drops his free hand down to Sam’s belt buckle. 

“Um… no… ? Have you?”

“Yeah. I love it. Almost as much as I love being fucked.”

Sam feels a little dizzy. Cas kisses him again. It's so distracting he almost doesn't notice the fact that his belt is undone and his zipper is down. 

“Is this… is this all right? Can I touch you?” Cas sounds out of breath. Good to know Sam’s not the only one affected by all this. But still. Wow. 

“Do it.”

Cas shoves his hand down the front of Sam’s pants. It's kind of shocking even though Sam knew it was coming. 

But it's nothing compared to the feeling when Cas actually his his hand around Sam’s erection and starts stroking it. Sam has to bite back a moan. He’s had practice being quiet. When constantly on the road with your family, privacy doesn't exist. Sam’s learned to rub one out, quick, dirty and silent whenever he gets a chance. 

He would die if someone walked by and heard what was going on. He’s honestly not even sure why he cares at this point. It's the principal of the thing. 

“I knew you’d be big,” Cas groans. “Just looking at your hands… fuck.”

Suddenly, Cas has moved off of Sam’s lap. He’s nudging Sam’s shoulders. 

“Lie down. There's space, right?”

Maybe? It's a weird order. But Sam doesn't have enough blood in his brain for much rational thought. He swivels and stretches out on his back. He can't extend his legs all the way, but it seems good enough. 

Cas pull Sam’s shoes off and then tugs his jeans all the way down. It feels weird. More than a little wrong, being naked from the waist down when Cas is fully clothed. Sam doesn't have a lot of time to worry about it. Because Cas settles between his thighs, leans down, and takes Sam’s entire cock into his throat. 

Sam lets out a noise that can only be called a squeak. He bites down on one of his fists. Holy shit. He’s never felt anything like this. Perfect, wet, silky heat. 

When Cas starts moving, bobbing his head, the drag of his lips and tongue is too much to cope with. Sam is gonna die. His hips jerk. He can't help it. Cas moans around him. 

The molten heat coiling at Sam’s core is urgent and undeniable. He is not going to last. Not when Cas is deepthroating him like a goddamned porn star. 

Sam doesn't have much basis for comparison. But he's pretty sure that this is the sexual experience everything else is going to be measured against. It's impossible to imagine feeling better than he does right now. 

“Cas,” Sam’s voice comes out all shaky and desperate. “Dude I’m gonna…”

Cas does not seem to care. Doesn't pull away even when Sam tugs at his hair a little. No, he just moans again. The vibration makes Sam see stars. 

When Cas swallows, muscles constricting around Sam’s cock, it's all over. He comes so hard everything whites out for a minute. 

The next thing he registers is Cas sprawling on top of him. Kissing him. Letting some of Sam’s jizz smear between their lips, dribble down their chins. It should be disgusting. That strange, milky, musky flavor. But it's kinda really hot. 

It takes a little bit before Sam gathers himself together enough to realize that Cas is still hard. He's gotten a lot of lectures from Dean over the years about how going down is a reciprocal activity and guys that won't eat pussy are garbage. He's not sure if that also applies to sucking dick. But either way, he’s not just gonna leave Cas hanging. 

He sits up and Cas moves away. Like his strange brand of confidence has evaporated all of the sudden. He's once again folded in on himself. 

“Thanks,” his voice is absolutely wrecked. “That was even better than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ say.”

Sam reaches out in the semi-darkness. His fingers land on a thigh. He traces his hand upwards, over the stiff polyester-blend of the slacks Cas wears every day, and manages to start fiddling with the belt buckle before Cas tenses. 

“What… what are you doing?”

“Trying to get in your pants?”

“You don't have to.”

“I want to.”

“Really… ?”

“Yeah.”

And oddly enough, Sam does. If you told him five hours ago that he'd be excited to touch Cas Novak’s dick, he’d have thought you were high. But here he is. Life is funny that way. 

Cas unbuttons his own pants. Just straight-up takes them off without any further prompting. Then he’s sitting with his legs spread, back against the wall, breathing heavy in what might be a combination of arousal and fear.

Well. Here goes nothing.

Sam crawls forward. Leans in so he and Cas are pretty much sharing the same air. Cas is so hard. Leaking a little bit. The head of his cock is sticky to the touch. Cas gasps as Sam starts to stroke him. 

It’s different than jacking off. The angle is weird. Cas isn’t circumcised. Which is a new sensation. Sam gets kinda lost in the slide of skin. In how smooth the motion is. Cas tugs him into a kiss. Moans into his mouth. 

Cas has an average sized dick, considering what Sam’s seen in locker rooms. Maybe it’s a little on the short side. But it’s thick. Feels pretty nice to hold. Especially when Sam tightens his grip, focuses the pressure right under the head. Speeds up. Cas clutches at his shoulders. Sam can feel his thighs trembling.

“I—I’m close,” Cas breathes.  

“Yeah?” Sam’s dick twitches. No way he could get hard again that quick. He needs like, at least half an hour. But god. He’s about to make someone else have an orgasm. It’s a pretty nice rush. 

“Can I?” Cas sounds a little broken. “Please can I finish?”

“Fuck yes.”

It’s mesmerising. When he tensens, lets out a soft moan, splatters warm stickiness all over Sam’s hand. He shivers all over. Then goes slack. Completely relaxed. 

The silence holds for a moment. When Sam releases his grip, Cas grabs his hand and brings it up to his mouth. He then proceeds to lick his own come off Sam’s skin. Which, god, that shouldn’t result in such a gut-punch of arousal. But Sam is apparently learning all sorts of things about himself tonight.

“Wow,” Cas sighs. He sounds all dreamy. Sam can relate. Everything is warm-fuzzy and pleasant.

“Yeah.”

Their lips brush against each other. Not so hungry and hurried as before. Sam could probably go again at some point later tonight. But for now, he’s pretty tired.

The doorknob rattles. Sam comes to the sudden realization that he is still not wearing pants. He scrambles to at least get his underwear on.

“It’s awful quiet in there, Sammy,” Dean sounds positively gleeful, even though the barrier of the door. “Hope you’re not up to any sort of  _ sinful _ shenanigans.”

“Fuck you,” Sam snaps back, struggling into his jeans.  “Let us out.”

Cas seems to have gotten the memo as well. Sam hears the zipper go up up right before the lock turns and Dean pulls the door open. The light is almost blinding. Sam has to blink more than a few times. 

The scene is far from innocent. Their clothes are all rumpled. Sam knows his hair is a mess. And god. Cas is positively obscene, lips puffy and still spit-slick, glasses fogged up, resting crooked on his nose. Dean raises an eyebrow, grinning so wide his face might break. 

Sam gets to his feet first. Then offers a hand to Cas, because it seems like the right thing to do. They walk out into the hallway. Radiating awkward energy. Sam’s a little surprised there isn’t a crowd collected to catcall them. 

“Sammy,” Dean claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t say I never did nothing for you.”

And with that, he just walks off. Sam stares after him with a half-open mouth. Because oh my god, did Dean lock them in there  _ so they would hook up? _

“Your brother is very odd.”

“You could say that again.”

“Would you… would you like to get another drink?” Cas shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“Sure. Why not.”

They walk down the hall, into the kitchen. The table is littered with half-empty beer bottles and a few handles of cheap hard liquor. Sam mixes himself a whiskey and coke. Cas grabs a can of PBR from the fridge. 

It’s not really that weird, as they wander into the living room together. Sam flops down onto the nearest unoccupied couch, and Cas settles next to him. Neither of them says anything. It’s hard not to feel like people are staring at them, but Sam knows that’s mostly his own paranoia. Everyone here is too drunk to give a fuck about what anyone else is doing.

“I would like to do that again.” Cas clutches his beer close to his chest. “If you are amenable.”

“I think I might be persuaded,” Sam laughs softly.

It feels both bold and utterly simple, to reach out and lace their fingers together. After everything else they just did, holding hands shouldn’t seem like such a big deal. But Sam still feels all fluttery. It gets worse when Cas smiles at him, face lighting up in a way it only does when he’s talking about Exciting Scientific Discoveries or abstract calculus. 

Well shit. Sam might be just a tiny bit in love. Dumb, teenage, puppy-love, fueled by hormones and the desire for more skin on skin contact.

It’s not often Sam gets to feel young and stupid. He’s more than ready to enjoy the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> [HMU if you wanna scream about tiny dork boys.](http://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/) Or Sam Winchester's daddy kink. Or anything filthy, honestly. I'm probably into it.


End file.
